The Cold of the Void
by ZooKeeperAbigail
Summary: Chapter 4 is up! Uncle Nigel pays Private another visit, but it's anything but your average family reunion. Nigel comes to warn Private that there is an enemy seeking to eliminate Nigel's family, making Private a target for assassination. Who is this enemy, what do they want? Skipper and the team decide to investigate, spiraling into a pit of a long kept secrets, lies, and murder.
1. Prologue

**Hiya! So... I used to write POM fanfictions a long time ago. I recently started watching the show again for nostalgia and ended up wanting to write maybe one last story. So I made a new account and here I am...yeah...Uhh. If this doesn't end up getting any reads or reviews I'll probably just trash it. If you're reading this, I sincerely hope you enjoy! Leave me some feedback so I know someone actually wants me to continue. **

* * *

**Prologue **

The icy winds of Antarctica pelted the elder penguin's face. He had been used to the brutal chill for quite some time, so it hardly fazed him. His focus was rather set on the younger penguin standing in front of him, his orange, webbed toes concealed in the snow. The younger penguin was on the chubbier side, and he was not the tallest, especially compared to the elder. His eyes were icy blue. Just like his heart, thought the elder. In between the two adults, a tiny penguin sat in the midst, his down feathers dusted in frost. He shivered, longing to burrow in between his father's feet. Unfortunately, he knew he was not invited, so he chose to stand in the freezing wind.

"It is in your instincts! He is your responsibility now," the elder spat to the other, a smooth British accent rolled off his tongue.

"I can't do this without her…" the shorter penguin said, shooting the baby penguin in between them a pitiful glance. The hatchling looked back up at his father, his bright blue eyes sparkling desperately. "I just can't."

The elder penguin ruffled his feathers, snow ripping off them and flying into the wind. "You can't just let the poor lad starve. He's depending on you!" he pleaded.

"This was all her idea! I didn't want to follow the flock, I didn't ask for this," the younger argued.

"Neither did he!" the British penguin spewed, pointing a flipper at the baby penguin.

"Nigel…" the other said, his tone growing deep as if threatening to raise it any higher in anger.

"Don't you see that he's all we have left of Charlotte?" The penguin named Nigel said, raising his voice above the harsh wind.

The penguin looked down at his boy, tears stinging his eyes. He blinked them away, doing his best not to stare at the child for too long, for it would have changed his mind; his mind that he had spent all night making up. "He's…a painful reminder. A reminder of her face, a reminder of her spirit, a reminder of what she talked me into…"

"You know she wanted a child—" Nigel started but was harshly cut off by his brother in law.

"And look where that got her!" the other shouted.

Suddenly, the elder struck the penguin out of anger, his flipper gliding across his face. The slap was barely audible over the wind. The flock of black and white penguins in the distance could not have heard it over the windstorm brewing. The younger penguin stood emotionless, a single tear streaking down his face as he gave his ex-brother in law one last glance.

"Goodbye, Nigel," he spoke harshly.

Nigel didn't stop him as the other waddled away to the flock, not evening glancing at his son for a final goodbye.

"You bloody coward…" Nigel said beneath the wind.

The baby penguin picked up his little feet and started to waddle after his father, but he was too slow. Confused, he stretched out his flippers to him, hoping he would turn around and notice he had forgotten him. Alas, his father disappeared into the snowy wind, never to be seen again. The tiny penguin shivered, suddenly growing scared. Standing a yard away, he waddled around and locked eyes with the elder. Nigel choked back a sob, reading the doomed future radiating in the bright blue crystals of the boy's eyes. He brushed those horrible thoughts aside, lowering his brow and ruffling his feathers again. He waddled over to the boy, inviting him to take shelter in between his feet. The baby penguin immediately accepted the offer, running over and nuzzling in Nigel's feathers.

"Come now, lad. Let's find you some chow. Uncle Nigel swears to you, everything is going to be okay," he said gently.

The baby penguin started to nod off sleepily in the midst of Nigel's feet, probably feeling the most comfortable he'd been in a while. Nigel looked down at him adoringly, knowing his future had suddenly taken a turn for the best.

"Ace…"


	2. Chapter 1: I Am P-R-I-V-A-T-E

**Chapter One:**

**I Am P-R-I-V-A-T-E**

**_London Aquarium, London _**

**_Summer, 2011_**

_Nigel Winterfeld roosted against a fake iceberg in the penguin habitat, carefully pressing a hot teacup to the tip of his beak. His hair, scruffy and hoary remained untamed. It was his unmistakable trademark, the crazy hair. One time in his life he kept it slid back and fashioned, but that was a long time ago, a time when he was a different penguin. Now he chose to do nothing with his hair every day, and also gained a little belly. He liked his new look. It kept certain animals away. And it certainly kept the past away._

_ "Uncle Nigel, Uncle Nigel!" a little voice squealed. Nigel tore his gaze away from his tea and looked up to see his tiny nephew, Ace hopping up and down and waving his flippers. The little boy was chubby, just like himself, and still possessed some of his down feathers. "Watch me do this smashing trick!" _

_Ace backflipped into their pool, splashing a few of their pen-mates, who didn't seem to mind. In the distance, Nigel heard a choir of "awwwws!" from the people. He looked up and noticed that the aquarium goers and London tourists stood watching, their faces pressed against the glass. Their attention was always on Ace because he was the youngest and, well, the cutest. Any who, the boy's splash was sloppy, but the flip itself was mostly smooth. Of course, he was a youngster, so that kind of criticism hardly mattered to him. Once the baby penguin resurfaced, Nigel stood up from his seat, amazed. _

_"Jolly good, lad! You've been practicing on that one, you have?" Nigel encouraged. _

_Ace attempted to leap out of the water and land on his webbed feet, noticing the other adult penguins doing so in the distance. He underestimated his leap, however, and instead knocked his chubby tummy onto the edge. Again, Nigel faintly heard the "awwwws!" carrying on in the distance. Ace cried out with an "oof!" but did not give up. He placed his flippers on the edge and pulled himself out with all of his might. He then rolled over and stood, beaming at his uncle, his lazy eye trailing off to the side. Nigel quickly admired his nephew's ability to try without a pout. _

_"I did! I've watched you do it before, Uncle Nigel," the small penguin said, waddling over to the elder, leaving wet footprints trailing behind him. He flopped down against the fake iceberg and joyfully swung his feet side to side. The lad was so innocent and endearing…just like his mother. _

_"Oh ho, ho! Me? Surely you didn't pick that up from this old scallywag," Nigel replied with a wink, ruffling Ace's feathers on the top of his head. Ace chuckled and knocked his flipper away. "You must have learned that yourself, lad. You can do anything you set your mind to; you don't need me." _

_The young penguin's eyes sparkled. "I can?" _

_"Behind every great penguin is a can-do attitude," Nigel preached, plopping back down and continuing to sip his tea. _

_"Is that why you're so great, Uncle Nigel?" Ace inquired, intrigued by the elder's words._

_Nigel laughed at the boy's question, knowing he was not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. He simply shook his head, trying to come up with a reply. "Well, I'll tell you one thing: us Winterfelds never give up. That's one thing that makes us great. Keep that in mind, and you'll do just fine, chap. Will you remember that?" _

_"I can sure try," Ace said after a ponder. _

_Nigel slapped the young penguin on the back. "That's my boy. Now, how about a spot of tea?" _

_Nigel was so caught up in his chat with his nephew that he failed to notice a large shadow watching them from afar, ducked behind a fake rock._

* * *

**Central Park Zoo, New York**

**Fall, Present day**

"P…R…I…V…" Private paused, his tongue tracing the sides of his beak in concentration. "E-T!" He put his pencil down and showed the chimps, Mason and Phil, his work with a confident smile. Every morning for the past month, Private had been taking reading lessons in the monkey exhibit at the crack of dawn. Mason and Phil didn't mind at all, they were early risers anyway. They also didn't mind Private compared to the other penguins. The youngest of the four was the most reasonable…and less psychotic.

Mason looked over to his old, mute friend, Phil, who began to rapidly move his hands in sign language. "Phil says you sounded it out correctly, but that is not how you spell it." He looked back at Phil and noticed his friend was signing Private's name. Mason then took the pencil and paper, writing down P-R-I-V-A-T-E. "Try this."

Private didn't even frown at the chimps. He gazed at his mistake and then smiled warmly. "Why, thank you, Phil! I sort of get it now." Private took the pencil back and began writing his name down over and over for practice.

"I say, Private, you sure have come a long way since last week. Have you been practicing?" Mason asked, his English accent swiftly rolling off his tongue.

Private looked up at Mason only briefly before he continued writing. "I try when I have time. Between the Skippah's exhausting training and looking cute and cuddly for the guests, I'm so busy. I try writing in my new journal before bed now."

Phil taps Mason on the shoulder and starts signing again. Mason reads him before turning to Private. "Yes, what do you like to write?"

"Um…" Private mumbled, blushing underneath his feathers. "Poetry, mostly."

Mason smiled at the young penguin's modesty. "Quite lovely," he said, receiving a nod of confirmation from Phil. "So, are the other penguins proud of your learning?"

The tip of Private's pencil snapped as he considered the question. He froze completely. Skipper and the others actually had no idea that the short penguin had been waking up extra early just to go to the chimp's habitat to learn how to read and write. He kept it on the down-low, afraid Skipper would forbid him from it. At the time he asked the chimps for help, he had done it out of impulse. After thinking about it, Skipper probably would have allowed the lessons as long as it didn't interrupt with scheduled maintenance, training, or missions. But he had already done it. The longer he'd gone without letting Skipper know, the madder he knew his leader would be once the truth came out. He was already in deep, so he tried not to think about it.

Just as Private opened his beak to lie, the Central Park Zoo clock tower tolled seven in the morning. Private looked up at the clock suddenly, his heart dropping to his toes. He jumped out of his seat excitedly, nodding his head at the chimps.

"I've got to rush, guys. Same time tomorrow, yeah?" Private asked hastily. He didn't give Phil or Mason the time to respond. He flipped gracefully over the habitat's gate and started belly sliding to his own. He knew his comrades would be waking up any second. If Skipper woke up and Private wasn't there, his secret would have to be revealed. Private knew he wasn't good at lying, Skipper would squeeze it out of him like a pimple; he shuttered at the thought.

Private leaped off the concrete and flipped over the fence to his habitat, hearing the team's alarm clock ringing from the fake ice flow his home possessed. Swiftly, he opened their fishbowl entrance and jumped inside. Just as he landed on the ground, Skipper, his leader, had groggily dragged himself out of bed. Private saluted him with a nervous smile, suppressing his pants from his haste. Skipper opened his eyes and jumped slightly at the sight of Private right beside him. Behind him, Private's other teammates, Kowalski and Rico had hopped out of their bunks.

Kowalski was the tallest in the unit as well as the smartest. He was Skipper's strategist and lieutenant. Kowalski was really smart, a genius, actually. His quick thinking and brains had saved the team from multiple situations. Rico was the weapons expert. He was the second tallest of the group although he was hunched over constantly. What was diverse about Rico was his mohawk hairstyle and scarred beak. Private never knew how he had gotten that scar; it had been there since the day he met him. His hunched friend possessed the ability to swallow anything and regurgitate it on command—usually Skipper's command. His talent was perfect for packing weapons for missions. Rico was also mute, but Private and the others usually understood his manic language and squawking without fail.

At last, there was Skipper, the fearless leader of their unit. The flat-headed penguin stood only inches taller than Private, making him the third tallest. He carried his height well, nonetheless, puffing out his chest and standing straight and tall as every leader should. Not only was he the leader, but he served more like Private's older brother, maybe even his father.

Skipper rubbed his eyes tiredly, giving Private a warm smile. "Now that's what I like to see, solider. Look at you, bright-eyed and feather-tailed so early. Good work," he complimented, slapping the youngest on the back. Private could only chuckle nervously toward his leader, still feeling breathless from his run.

* * *

"Alright, men, today is Monday. You know what that means," Skipper announced, pacing in front of his soldiers who stood at attention. The penguins were on top of their fake ice flow, just an hour before the zoo was scheduled to open.

_"Snow cones!" _Rico squawked, bouncing up and down eagerly.

"Correct, soldier," Skipper said, pointing a flipper at the frenzied bird. "But what do we do _before_ snow cones?"

"Our weekly combat training against you, sir," Kowalski answered matter-of-factly, standing tall and proud. Private noticed that Kowalski couldn't help but let a small smile tug at the ends of his beak every time he was right.

"Also correct," Skipper said, pacing over to Rico. He elbowed the scarred penguin in the gut, causing Rico to regurgitate two wooden swords into the air. Skipper caught one with a wily smile, the other landing in Kowalski's grip. "Let's see what you've got, Kowalski. I expect you to use at least one combat move you learned last week."

Kowalski gulped, preforming an unsure battle stance. "Aye, aye, sir."

Private and Rico waddled away to the distance, ready to watch and await their turn. It was no spoiler that Kowalski would lose, as well as Rico and himself. Skipper was too experienced; he had never lost a fight against his team members. Private secretly hoped he would best Skipper one day in combat, maybe the others would look at him differently. Granted, Private had changed throughout the years, but he was still the youngest and lowest of ranks. His brothers in arms seemed to still treat him like a child now and then. He was only ten years old, when would he catch his big break?

Kowalski lost after about two minutes, maybe the longest anyone had fought against Skipper. Despite his well-executed combat moves, Skipper had bested his lieutenant by faking an oncoming attack. Once Kowalski had tried to parry, Skipper had swiftly struck him in the stomach, knocking the egghead over. Skipper jumped on top of Kowalski and drove the wooden sword down, pretending to drive it through his heart. Private had grimaced at the action, imagining the weapon actually piercing through Kowalski's skinny body, immediately ending his life.

Once it was Rico's turn, he did what he usually did in every fight: tire himself out and give the opponent the upper hand. Skipper beat him sooner than Kowalski, swiping the sword at the scarred penguin's ankles, making Rico topple over, opening his eyes to seeing what could have been his last sight: the tip of a sword being driven through his skull. Again, Private shuttered.

"You do this every time, Rico!" Skipper said harshly. "Conserve your energy, man."

Rico grumbled inaudible nonsense as he picked himself off the ground. He handed Private the wooden sword, waddling over to Kowalski on the sidelines. Private held the sword up, swallowing nervously. Skipper seemed exhausted in the slightest, ready to take on his youngest cadet.

"Hiyah!" Skipper huffed, bearing his sword. Private whimpered, belly sliding underneath Skipper's attack, getting back up to strike him in the back. Skipper landed on his webbed feet and swiftly turned around, parrying the blow with his sword. The leader jumped back and swung the weapon at Private. The short penguin swung his too, their swords clashing. Skipper pushed his weight against the British penguin, clenching his beak in determination. Private strained to push his leader back, his little feet sliding backward on the concrete. Private gasped once he realized what Skipper was trying to do. He was trying to push him into their pool. He couldn't let that happen; it would be much too embarrassing. He needed to impress his captain. It was finally time to show him he could fight.

With all of his might, Private pushed Skipper back, causing the flat-headed penguin to stumble backward, only slightly. Skipper recovered, barley blocking Private's blow to the head. The leader took over, forcing Private's sword to swoop down, taking Private's flippers down with it. He knew Skipper would attempt something tricky right after, so he beat him to it. Hastily, Private twisted his body, bringing his foot to Skipper's face. His leader saw the attack coming and quickly ducked. Private lost his balance and tumbled over, his back smacking the concrete. He grunted, looking up to see Skipper raising his sword up in the air to end his life. Rapidly, Private rolled to the side, simultaneously grabbing his sword and avoiding the attack.

_"Go, Pi'vate!" _Rico cheered.

Private couldn't believe how long he had lasted so far, he had for sure beaten his record. He stood across from Skipper, both panting, swords at the ready. Private couldn't believe it, Skipper was _winded_. The time had come to show him what he was really made of. Maybe he could be the first to beat his leader in combat. Private took in a deep breath, time was suddenly in slow motion. Just as Skipper charged to attack, the small penguin performed a 540 kick.

"Hiyah!" Private squealed, his eyes shut tight. His spin was solid, his kick was swift. Once he felt the impact of Skipper's beak against his foot, he knew he had done it. It was over. Private landed, a little sloppy, but his leader didn't see because he was too busy smacking the concrete.

"Oof!" Skipper grunted painfully.

Kowalski and Rico gasped, completely and utterly flabbergasted at the sight. Private's heart rate had settled, and his breath had finally returned to him once he had realized what he had done. Skipper was unresponsive, lying on his back a yard away. Private instantly dropped his sword, running to his leader's side.

"Skippah! I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" the young penguin cried, tapping Skipper's cheek fretfully.

Suddenly, Skipper's eyes opened. Private's heart burst out of his chest as the flat-headed penguin tackled him to the ground, harmfully pinning his flippers down. With no hesitation, Skipper scraped his wooden sword across Private's throat, pretending to kill him. Private shook like a leaf in the wind. He remained on the ground even as Skipper got off him, flashing the British penguin an emotionless look.

"Game, set, match, young Private. Never miss an opportunity to finish your opponent," his leader said, crossing his flippers.

Private was speechless for a moment, still grasping what had just happened. He sat up, his whole body was sore from the fight, especially where Skipper had pinned him down. He looked over to Kowalski and Rico, who as well look stunned.

"That…that was a dirty trick, Skippah," Private whined. Tears were brimming in his eyes; he tried his best to hide them.

Skipper turned to face him. "Trick? Negative! I did that to show you that nice guys finish last."

Private finally stood up, vexingly stomping his foot. "But that's not fair! I had beaten you," he wailed.

"Technically…" Kowalski spoke up awkwardly, noticing Private was heated, "the name of the game was to end your opponent, which you did not.

"Why does everything have to end in murdah?" Private inquired, his accent becoming more obvious in the heat of the moment. "Can't we just spare our opponents?"

Skipper lowered his brow. "Manfredi and Johnson once thought so, too, until the French escapade of ninety-nine! Once the dust cleared, all that remained was a severed flipper clutching a half-eaten baguette. I've…not touched one since," Skipper said, brushing away a fake tear from his eye.

Private refrained from rolling his eyes. He knew Skipper only told his tall tales when he wanted to change the subject. He wouldn't let him, not this time.

"If you could just understand, Skippah—"

"That's enough, solider," Skipper harshly cut him off, waving a dismissive flipper. "You're just a boy, naïve. One day you'll realize that the world doesn't work the way you want."

"Skipper's argument is valid," Kowalski interjected once more. "The evil in this universe shows no mercy to the ingenuous."

Private blinked at Kowalski in bewilderment. The egghead's choice of words had eluded him, just as always.

_"That's ooo," _Rico grumbled, pointing at Private.

Private huffed. "But—"

"_No_ buts, Private!" Skipper ordered impatiently. "We're just trying to help you. I'll risk no soldier of mine getting killed over—"

Suddenly, the zoo's clock had struck eight o'clock. The gates swung open, and the people flooded in excitedly. It was time to start the day whether they liked it or not.

Skipper redirected his attention back to his youngest cadet, his face turning melancholy. Private wondered if his leader had noticed how red his face had become from embarrassment. "We'll have to finish this conversation at a later date. Rico, stash the swords!"

Rico swallowed the weapons on command just as a large group of children piled around their habitat. He and Kowalski had begun the smile and wave routine. Skipper looked down at Private, who was looking at his toes in disappointment. The leader smiled kindly, draping a flipper over his little brother's shoulder.

"Cheer up, Private. You'll get the hang of it one day," he encouraged. "Now, I need a smile on that face and a skip in your step. You can manage that, right, cadet?" Skipper winked at him.

Private could only muster a fake grin, his heart still sinking like an anchor in the ocean.

"Aye-aye, sir."


	3. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Guest

**Chapter Two:**

**An Unexpected Guest**

**_London Aquarium, London _**

**_Summer, 2011_**

_Nigel felt fulfilled._

_He could not shake how happy he was, it was as if he was meant to be right here, right now with little Ace waddling by his side. Although he never had a mate or egg of his own, he was still grateful to have his nephew with him. This was what he was destined for; not the spy game, not to catch the bad guys, but to be a father to Ace. He shuttered every time he imagined what would have happened if he left the lad in the snow. The chap would have been gone by now. He owed it to his sister. _

_Sweet, naive Charlotte. Why did she have to leave this world? _

_"Oi, Uncle Nigel?" Ace chirped. _

_Nigel stirred from his thoughts, opening his eyes to find the toddler standing before him. He almost couldn't stand it; for half a second, he thought he saw Charlotte. He sat up from his resting spot, yawning. "What is it, lad?" _

_"Um…" Ace started to say but trailed off. The short penguin twiddled his flippers before speaking again. "The aquarium is closed…" _

_Nigel looked around. Indeed, their home was closed for the day. The lights in the hallways outside their windows were shut off and the lights in their habitat had dimmed. A few of the other penguins were huddling together to go to sleep._

_"Indeed," Nigel said. "Surely that is not the reason you woke me, Ace." _

_"Uh, well, no. I was hoping we could go out. You know, explore?" the little penguin asked. _

_Nigel raised an eyebrow at his nephew. "Leave the habitat, you mean?" _

_"Well, yeah," Ace replied with a nervous smile. "I imagine I'm ready to go out."_

_Nigel stood up, looking down at the boy and flashed him his signature kooky smile. "Come now, why would you want to leave the habitat when all you need is right here?" _

_"It would just be for a little while, Uncle Nigel. Have you not gone mad staying in these glass walls? The other penguins do it when the humans leave," the young penguin whined. _

_"We are not the other penguins, lad," Nigel said. _

_Ace's chubby face turned crestfallen. "But…I fancy adventure—"_

_Nigel interrupted the small bird with a pat on the head. "Hush, hush, you're much too little for such things, boy. Perhaps after your next molt, yes?" _

_Ace's eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Nigel had beaten him to it. The elder jumped up excitedly, stopping the boy. "Oh, dear me, I hear our evening tea whistling. I'll be back in a jiffy!"_

_In the bat of an eyelash, Nigel slipped away to the other side of the habitat where he and Ace liked to keep their belongings and sleep. He belly slid inside a fake mountain of ice. There was a hiding place strategically carved out by the humans for the penguins to hide in when they were feeling camera shy. It was one of the few, but Nigel had claimed this specific spot years ago when he and Ace had arrived. Inside were two cots with neatly folded blankets on top, a tiny oven, and a cupboard above the oven. It wasn't much, but it was their little home. Hastily, Nigel began to make tea, praying that Ace hadn't followed him. He peaked outside their hiding hole, seeing Ace in the distance. The young penguin seemed to be downhearted, flopping down on his behind and gazing off into the distance. _

_As the elder reached for his teapot, he sighed heavily. He knew it was uncouth of him to leave the conversation like he did, but Ace had never asked to do something so brave before. He felt tears stinging his eyes, remembering a time when the lad was afraid to dive into the water, now he was asking to leave the habitat? Nigel couldn't bear it; his nephew was growing up much too fast. _

_Pushing the sad thoughts aside, Nigel dropped some tea leaves into the pot. As he waited, he prepared two teacups. Ace liked milk in his tea, so he poured a little into the small penguin's cup. Just as he did so, he heard the sound of crunching snow approaching his home from behind. It did not sound like Ace's little feet, though. The footsteps sounded much heftier. Nigel froze, noticing a shadow looming over his stove. Whoever the figure was, it was not speaking a word, just lofting about. If it was another penguin in the habitat they shared, they would have spoken to him by now. They all know him, and he knows them. They were all friends, which was why he so confounded as to why this large shadow had not said a single word to him yet. _

_He could faintly hear the figure waddling inside his home. _

_As quick as he could, Nigel reached for his cutting knife and whirled around, throwing the knife at the shadowy figure looming in the entranceway. The figure reacted almost as fast, grabbing the knife in midair and jumping back. Nigel was taken by surprise once the figure had stepped into the dim light of his home. The stranger was an all too familiar penguin. He noticed the large penguin's bushy, yellow eyebrows and army buzzcut. He looked at Nigel crossly, probably not so thrilled that he had been greeted with a knife thrown at him. _

_"Nice to see you too, Teabag," the uninvited penguin said. _

**_Teabag_**_, he had not been called that in a long time. _

_Suddenly, Nigel puffed out his chest and slid back his unkempt, silver hair. "Buck, you sure gave me a bloody fright." _

_Buck Rockgut glazed his flipper across the blade, cunningly smiling at his old friend. "So I noticed."_

_"I haven't seen you for donkey's, mate. Why are you here?" Nigel questioned. He wanted to ask how Buck had been, but he knew his long-time friend was not one for small talk. He got straight to business as always. _

_"Yeah, it's been a while. You know I don't just pop in for tea, Nigel." As Buck spoke, Nigel scooted him to the side, popping his head out to make sure that Ace was still far away from this engagement. _

_"I'm aware. Let's hear it, then," Nigel said almost impatiently. He was worried that his nephew would start to waddle over any minute to check up on him. _

_"It's penguin enemy number one," Buck said lowly, squeezing the handle of the knife tightly. "He's escaped." _

_Nigel's heart dropped to his stomach. After, nothing was audible except the sound of his teapot whistling. _

* * *

**Central Park Zoo, New York**

**Fall, Present day**

Private lied in his bunk during the penguin's free period, the time of day when the zoo goers were slim to none. Skipper was watching the news while drinking his afternoon joe. Kowalski resided in his lab, probably inventing something that was to inevitably to blow up. Rico roosted in a corner with his Miss Perky doll, brushing her blonde hair and cooing inaudible things to his girlfriend. Usually the youngest of the quartet would be watching cartoons or visiting Marlene, but he did not feel like himself, not one bit.

Private was still embarrassed from the morning's events. Why was it that Skipper was so being so unfair? He didn't even congratulate the short penguin for taking him down and almost winning. Private felt unappreciated, he had worked so hard to beat his captain, and for what? Why was he even here? What was his purpose?

Skipper praised Kowalski for his intelligence all the time. No doubt that the tallest penguin's calculations had got the four out of many hairy situations. And what would they be without Rico? Skipper valued his manic friend's love for danger and explosions, their interests brought the two together in ways Private couldn't fathom. But…what was there to love about himself? Private was…a letdown. He and Skipper never agreed on anything, no matter the subject. Private loved color, cartoons, and was a hopeless romantic. Skipper was a hard head who enjoyed violence, action, and military tradition. Even though the two were night and day, Private still looked up to his captain. He was like his father figure; he had taught him many lessons and saved his tail on multiple occasions.

The question that perplexed Private, though: did Skipper care for his youngest cadet, or simply tolerate him? The query caused his stomach to twist in knots and tears sting his eyes. Why did he go and think that? Now he was baffled, hungry for the answer. Private raised his head, watching Skipper drink his coffee and watch Chuck Charles give the news with his usual blank stare. He could tell there was something stirring inside him as well. The tension between the two was thick, but not thick enough for Rico to mind. The mohawked bird was still enjoying his free period with his doll. Private thought to talk to his captain but fought against it. Why make things more tense? He would never get Skipper to spill his thoughts to him. Compared to Private, who was an open book, Skipper was more like a locked diary.

Instead, the little penguin pulled his journal out from underneath his pillow and started practicing his writing. Perhaps he could write his feelings down on paper to make him feel better. After a couple of minutes, he saw Skipper turn around in the distance. Private, looked up from his book, noticing Skipper was looking straight at him. Instantly, both penguins avoided eye contact, Private to his journal and Skipper to the clock. From the corner of his eye, he saw Skipper waddle off to Kowalski's lab, the door slamming behind him.

Odd, thought Private.

* * *

Skipper waddled inside Kowalski's lab with his usual stern gaze. His strategist heard the door slam. To this, the tall penguin greeted Skipper with the corner of his eye, turning back to what he was doing, which seemed to be adjusting test tubes.

"Afternoon, sir," Kowalski greeted.

"Bah," Skipper grunted, raising his metal mug for another sip. To his dismay, the mug was already empty. With a frown, the captain rested the cup on a nearby desk.

"You must be bored if you want to come in here—" Kowalski stopped his own sentence abruptly and jumped around, shielding his test tubes as if protecting them from danger. "Or perhaps you are here to mock the good name of science."

"At ease," Skipper said irritably. "I'm just…huh, I guess I don't know what I'm doing in here."

Kowalski eased his defensive stance, placing his flippers behind his back. "Got something on your mind, then?"

Skipper stood up straight, furrowing his brow. "Nope."

Kowalski let a smirk trace his beak, turning back around to work on his test tubes. "Alright then." He knew Skipper very well. If there was something he wanted to talk about, he would let it out himself, not to be encouraged to speak his mind.

"It's the private," Skipper blurted out. It was the way he said it. So sad, so despondent and desperate.

"I'm hypothesizing that you're referring to the fight this morning," Kowalski muttered.

"Yeah. I just don't know what I'm going to do with the kid anymore," Skipper said. The leader plopped himself down on a stool and frowned.

"What do you mean?" Kowalski asked, suddenly interested in the conversation more than his work.

"I thought this phase would have surpassed by now, but if you ask me, he's worse," Skipper admitted with a sigh.

Kowalski squinted his eyelids at his superior. "Phase, sir?"

"The boy is a complete softy pants!" Skipper shouted, clenching his flippers.

Kowalski flinched slightly at the flat-headed penguin's outburst. "Now, Skipper. We all know that Private isn't going through a phase. So he's a little different than you, I, and Rico? He's still a valued affiliate of the unit, and we love him."

"Of course, I love him, Kowalski. The boy's like my own; I've known him since he was a little tyke," Skipper argued. His angry look slowly turned melancholy. "And he's got talent, I'll tell you that."

"Then what is the issue, sir?" Kowalski inquired.

Skipper hopped off his stool and crossed his flippers. "I'm worried about him. He has potential to defend himself in any situation and his athletic skills have peaked since last year, it's just that, you know, he thinks with his heart."

"You don't think with your heart, Skipper?" Kowalski asked, confused.

"I think with my gut! Every penguin should. Out there, it's do or die. You saw what happened up top, Private could have ended me; the opportunity was golden!"

"He thought he had hurt you," Kowalski defended.

"You or Rico would have done it," Skipper said sternly. To this, Kowalski felt as if his beak was zip tied shut. He frowned at his leader, to which Skipper did the same, then exhaled sadly, "I care about him, I really do, Kowalski, but he'll get crushed out there. I need options, man."

Kowalski nervously cleared his throat. "You could talk to him about this, about how you feel?"

Skipper glared at him, as if saying, _"really?"_ with his eyes. Everyone knew that Skipper was not one to wear his heart on his flipper. It was certainly not in his cold, hard nature. Besides, he knew how Private would react to such a talk. His feelings would surely be crumpled knowing that Skipper thought of him as helpless.

"Right…" Kowalski hunched over, almost defeated. "Perhaps you could do some one on one training with him," as he spoke, he drew pictures down on his clipboard, presenting to Skipper a drawing of Skipper wearing a helmet and shouting orders at a fearful Private, "specifically on your worries, like ending opponents. Results seem to end with a fifty percent chance of Private toughening up. Then, maybe you could tell him how you—" Skipper slapped Kowalski before he could finish his sentence.

Skipper pondered for a while. Telling Private how he felt about the whole ordeal could end in multiple ways, which was the thing that stressed him out the most. On the other flipper, training the boy one on one had only two ways of ending. It would either work or fail. Either way it resulted, Skipper wouldn't have to tell him how he felt, ensuing Private's feelings not getting hurt. He liked those odds.

"Fifty percent, you say?" Skipper smirked.


	4. Chapter 3: Deadly Training

**Chapter Three:**

**Deadly Training**

**_London Aquarium, London _**

**_Summer, 2011_**

_Nigel nervously tended to his tea. He had requested Buck to take a seat. Buck sat on one of the cots in the corner, his usual scowl cutting through Nigel like old times. The elder penguin didn't know what to make of this news. So many questions were soaring through his mind. Which to start with?_

_"How did that evil nutter escape?" Nigel asked as he carefully poured tea into his guest's cup._

_Buck propped a flipper on his stumpy knee, eyeing the brown liquid flooding into the cup. "He outsmarted the guards. I didn't receive the full intel, but there are rumors that an inside source helped him escape." _

_Nigel waddled over to Buck, handing him his beverage. "You mean…one of our own?" _

_"A penguin, yes."_

_Nigel popped his head out to check on Ace. The lad was building a little snowman, chattering to himself, or perhaps to his new friend made out snow. Either way, he no longer seemed cross. He then turned to Buck, who had not yet taken a sip of tea. "Now who would be crazy enough to help our number one enemy?" _

_"We're not sure. Anyone who found out the night of his escape was surely killed," Buck answered, frowning at his still untouched tea. _

_Nigel frowned just at the thought of penguin blood being spilled because of that one-eyed, nut-crazed rodent. "That's awful news, Buck." _

_Silence passed before Nigel was struck with his next question. One he was worried about the answer to._

_"Why are you here, old bean?" _

_Buck stiffened. He set the cup down and stood up, he and Nigel chest to chest. "I'm not going to sugar coat this, Teabag. Headquarters wants you to take this mission with me. You're the one who bagged him last, you can bag him again." _

_Nigel's face grew hot, his whole world seemed to stop spinning. He turned away, crossing his flippers. "Well, you know you're flogging a dead horse asking me." _

_"Nigel…" Buck tried to speak calmly, but his temper nearly got the best of him. _

_"You know I quit the old spy game years ago. I'm a different penguin. I…" Nigel's voice faltered, looking back out the window to find Ace adding rocks to his little snowman as eyes, giggling and chattering on. "I have a lot on my plate right now." _

_"The Red Squirrel could strike any day now. No one knows what he's planning. If you don't take this job, more blood will be spilled," Buck explained. _

_"You cannot pin that kind of responsibility on me. You're a great agent, why can't you find him yourself?" Nigel asked turning back to Buck. _

_Buck frowned. "I need my partner back…" his voice faltered, but only a second. "I know you miss the thrill; you have to."_

_"I do, blast it!" Nigel shouted. "It's my nephew, I can't leave him. You see, I'm all he has."_

_"I understand your dilemma, Nigel, I really do," Buck draped a flipper over the elder's shoulder, "But if we continue to allow the Red Squirrel to roam free, he'll only grow smarter. What will you do if he strikes London? You were the last penguin to put him away. Your boy could be a target now, for all we know." _

_Nigel blinked away his tears, knowing Buck was very right. _

_"But…" Buck continued. "You could help me find him. Once he's in our custody again, your nephew and all the other young penguins out there will be safe. You don't want him living in fear, do you?" _

_Nigel shrugged away Buck's flipper. "Of course not. But what do you want me to do, just leave him here to fend for himself? The lad still has his down feathers for bloody sake!" Nigel exasperated. _

_Buck held up his flippers in surrender. "Okay, okay. Listen, I'll talk to the agency. If they can arrange a safe place for him to stay, will you agree to take the mission?"_

_Nigel fell silent for a long time, taking in this whole situation. Only a while ago his latest concern was his nephew growing up too fast, now he was worried for his nephew's life. He thought back to what Ace had said earlier. "I fancy adventure!" Nigel knew this day would come, but he never expected it to come so soon. Ace was still so little and had much to learn before leaving the aquarium. He knew he couldn't keep him cooped up forever and be his little boy. Times were changing, and he hated it so much. _

_Yet, this was absolutely mad! He couldn't just drop the boy in some safe house. How would Ace take that? Would he think his own uncle was trying to get rid of him? He had no one else in this world. Nigel was all he had. What if Nigel never came back from this mission? What if Ace grew up and forgot all about his only family? What would that do to him? _

_Then again, Buck's point about Ace being a target to the Red Squirrel terrified him. It was very possible that the villainous rodent would kill Nigel's only family to get his revenge, and he wouldn't be merciful…not with his blood trail he's left. The thought of his enemy getting his filthy paws on his nephew was too much to bear. He couldn't leave Ace in danger. _

_Finally, Nigel opened his dry beak to answer. "It's…probable…" _

_Buck frowned. "You know I have to go back with a direct answer." _

_"Blast," Nigel whispered, praying he had more time to think this through. Tears were brimming in his eyes, he knew what his answer was, he just knew it would be painful to say it out loud. _

_"Alright, Buck. I'll take it." His heart crumbled. "My only condition is that you'll find Ace the safest place on the planet, far away from London…and…that I can visit him if and when I can." Nigel's voice was shaken, he couldn't help but release the tears he was holding._

_Buck pitied Nigel, slapping him encouragingly on the back. "I'll see what I can do. You know, I may know a place the Red Squirrel wouldn't think twice about."_

_Nigel shook away his tears, looking up at Buck hopefully._

_"What is this place?" _

* * *

**Central Park Zoo, New York**

**Fall, Present day**

"Private!"

The alert voice seemed to be coming from Private's unconscious state of mind. He was in a deep slumber, curled up in his bunk with his favorite Lunacorn securely in his flippers. One moment, he was dreaming about the zoo and all of his friends, next, he heard his name being called as if in a hushed whisper.

"Private!"

There it was again, louder and clearer. It wasn't in his mind; it was in real life. Someone was calling for him, but why? Groggily, the little penguin rolled over in his bunk, facing whoever was getting his attention.

"Hm?" he hummed lazily. His brain was not ready to wake up yet, telling him that it must have been very late in the night. Suddenly, he felt something nudge his body.

"Wake up, soldier!" the voice ordered. Private's brain registered that the voice belonged to Skipper. To that, he stirred quickly, hoping not to keep his commanding officer waiting any longer than he already had.

"Skippah?" Private asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's the kerfuffle?"

"No kerfuffle, cadet. Get on your feet," Skipper said. He was whispering, which told Private one thing: he didn't want to wake Kowalski and Rico, meaning he only needed to speak to Private. But why?

Private hopped off his bunk, saluting his captain sleepily. He wanted to ask questions but thought it was best to let Skipper explain. He really didn't feel like getting slapped so early in the morning.

"Rise and shine. Are you ready for training?" Skipper asked, placing his flippers on his hips and smiling slyly.

"Training, sir? It's the middle of the night," Private said.

"Yes, it is. We better get going, then," Skipper said, shoving a cameo backpack into Private before marching off, nearly knocking over the young penguin.

Private glanced up at his sleeping teammates. "Are Kowalski and Rico joining us, Skippah?"

Skipper stopped at the ladder, turning to flash Private his usual stern glare. "Are you going to keep asking questions all night or are we moving out, cadet?"

Private gulped.

* * *

Skipper and Private marched out of their habitat and into their secret underground tunnels. Soon, they arrived in Central Park. The time was 4:00am, much too early for even the birds. Private Trudged behind Skipper, carrying the heavy cameo pack on his back. Skipper had a pack too, but he was marching easily, hardly breaking a sweat. Private yearned for answers as to why he was here with him, but he knew it would only annoy his leader. He needed to be patient; he was sure Skipper would tell him soon. Yet he was so scared that he was in trouble.

Skipper scooped down a held back a large branch from a bush, gesturing Private to enter first. Hesitantly, Private walked into the entrance Skipper made for him, Skipper not too far behind. He glanced around him. They were in a dark area shrouded in trees and bushes, completely hidden.

Private couldn't hold it in any longer. He turned to Skipper, squeaking, "Where are we?"

Skipper didn't reply. He flung his pack off and rummaged through it, later pulling out a lantern. The leader turned on the lantern and placed it in the center of their little hide. He finally met Private's scared blue eyes seriously.

"Private, we are where I like to come to train by myself. No one knows this little area, not even your fellow soldiers."

Private shook. "S-so…why are we here?"

The leader crossed his flippers over his snow-white chest. "I'm sharing it with you. Let's do some training. Warm up with some push-ups. Drop and give me thirty."

Private jumped at attention and did what he was told. He plopped on the ground and started pushing his chubby figure up and down. As he did so, Skipper was pacing the grass before him, his flippers placed behind his back.

"I'll be frank with you, young Private, we're here to toughen you up," Skipper said sternly.

"Toughen me up, sir?" Private repeated in bewilderment.

"No more softy pants. Tonight, you earn your first kill. It's…it's time to grow up," Skipper said the last sentence almost as if it hurt him. Private couldn't tell, he could only focus on his throbbing flipper muscles.

"But, sir…" Private wheezed. He couldn't say what he wanted to say. He was breathless from his exercise.

"No buts this time, solider. You're not leaving this park until you learn to properly defend yourself," Skipper said harshly.

Private finished his push-ups. He leaped off the ground and stood at attention, tears threatening his eyes. He wanted to tell Skipper so badly how he didn't want to learn how to kill, but it seemed Skipper was not going to take no for an answer this time.

"Don't give me that look, Private," Skipper said, frowning himself. "If you can't follow the rules _I_ was forced to follow when _I_ was a private, then I'd have to discharge you from the unit. I really don't want to do that…"

Private's heart sank. "Permission to argue."

"Permission denied."

"You're asking me to take the life of someone else. Their _life_."

"_Only _if it means your own life! Private, listen to me. No one in this world will spare you. You will meet enemies that will not hesitate to kill you." Skipper was heated now. He was shaking Private desperately as he lectured, a twitch in his eye formed.

Private wriggled free. "I don't plan on making enemies like you, Skippah!" He regretted it the second he said it, but there was no turning back now.

Skipper's face grew red. "You think I went and looked for Hans? Or Blowhole? That I wanted enemies to come wreck my life as they so please, hurt my comrades? Private, please think rationally. There are no Lunacorns and rainbows on the other side. This is real life!"

The two furrowed their brows at the other, fists balled. They waited for the other to speak, ready to jump back into the argument. If Private didn't know any better, he would have thought Skipper was ready to fight him.

Suddenly, a sound emanated from the other side of the bushes, a snarl. Skipper and Private both turned to the sound, quickly forgetting what they were arguing about. Before either of the two could say anything, a large, fuzzy creature emerged from the bushes. It was a raccoon, an angry one at that. Unlike a lot of the creatures at Central Park, this animal prowled on all fours. Its eyes were milky white, teeth stained with blood, its fur was matted and unkempt.

"Skippah? Is this part of the training?" Private asked fearfully.

"Negative," Skipper answered, shaken himself. Instinctively, he shielded Private with his own body, holding another flipper out to this uninvited guest. "State your business, raccoon," he demanded.

"Food…" the raccoon snarled. Without warning, the rabid raccoon lunged at the penguins.

"Evade!" Skipper ordered. He and Private jumped at opposite sides, causing the raccoon to run past them and into a tree. Private caught himself and front flipped while Skipper barrel-rolled, picking himself off the grass and standing in defense. The two circled the raccoon, Private awaited Skipper's order to lunge simultaneously, but it didn't come. Instead, Skipper attempted to reason with him.

"Listen here, I'm sure we could find some berries for you. Maybe some nuts—"

"No! Food!" As quick as a flash, the raccoon slashed his hand at Skipper, carving three slash marks across Skipper's chest. Skipper jumped back, cursing in pain.

"Skippah!" Private shrieked. The raccoon went to lunge at the flat-headed penguin, but Private stopped him. He attacked the rabid intruder, throwing punches and kicks as best as he could. With all of his might, he threw the raccoon to the side, getting back up in a defensive stance. Behind him, Skipper was inching himself toward one of the packs, seeking a weapon, no doubt.

"Why are you attacking us?" Private squeaked.

"_Hungry_!" the raccoon cried desperately.

Private slightly turned to see his leader behind him. "Skippah, something's wrong with him. He's sick."

Skipper was winded, no doubt his chest hurt like hell. He retrieved a knife from his pack, aiming it at the beast. "We don't want to hurt you, understand? Calm down and we can help you."

The raccoon replied with a hungry cry, lunging at the penguins yet again. Private jumped in front of his leader, getting tackled by the beast. This time though, the beast had the upper hand. He pinned down Private's flippers and bared his teeth, slobber dripping on Private's face. The little penguin attempted to wriggle free, but the wild animal was too strong. Private screeched as he felt the raccoon's claws digging into his flippers. This was it.

"No!" he heard Skipper cry in the distance.

Just as the beast brought down his jaws for the kill, it stopped just before he could sink his teeth into Private's feathers. He whimpered, his eyes growing wide. Private was confused, but soon he knew why. The raccoon fell over with a whole in his back. Skipper stood above Private with fear in his face and blood on his knife.

"Skippah, no!" Private cried. He crawled over to the raccoon, who only had mere seconds to live.

"Hungry…" the raccoon wheezed faintly, tears coming out of his cloudy eyes. After one more shuttered breath, the raccoon was gone.

Skipper knelt next to his cadet and grabbed his face, concern filling his eyes. "Private, look at me. Are you okay?"

Tears flooded out of Private eyes; he couldn't bear it any longer. Why did the world revolve around violence? Why did it have to end this way?

"No…" Immediately, he wept, turning away from Skipper. "He was sick! We could have helped him!"

"He didn't give us a choice," Skipper said.

"He didn't give _you _a choice!" Private cried.

Skipper grew concerned, he attempted to make Private turn to face him. "If I didn't make that choice, he would have hurt you, Private."

Private backed away from his leader, frantic. He ripped the knife out of Skipper's flipper. "If this is what you're training me to be, then I want nothing to do with this team!" Angrily, he threw the knife to the side. "I refuse to be a murderah—like you!"

Without another word, Private belly slid away, disappearing behind the bushes.

"Private!" Skipper called. He attempted to chase after the boy, but pain erupted in his chest. He grunted and stopped. If he didn't receive treatment soon, he would pass out. It didn't matter anyhow; he would never catch up to his youngest cadet. Private was surely gone.


	5. Chapter 4: At Death's Door

**_HEY! So...I'm sorry that this chapter was such a wait. I'm busy, okay? I also apologize that it's a little on the short side, but hey, it's a chapter nonetheless! I hope you enjoy anyway._**

* * *

**_London Aquarium, London _**

**_Summer, 2011_**

_After more talking, Buck Rockgut slipped out of the aquarium unseen even by Nigel. He turned around once to say something, but his longtime partner was gone without a trace. Nigel deeply sighed, knowing now what he must do. He looked outside to find Ace playing in the snow, oblivious to what was going on. To think, his whole world was about to change, it broke Nigel's heart to pieces. Slowly, he poured Ace a cup of tea. One lump of sugar and a dab of milk…just how he liked it. Stirring it nervously, he waddled out of their home and headed straight to Ace. While the tiny penguin's back was turned, Nigel ruffled up his hair back to his usual scruffy look and dropped his puffed-up chest. He couldn't remember the last time he had to drop his cover. It'd been years. _

_"Sorry I was gone so long, lad. Had a bit of trouble with the tea," Nigel greeted. He handed his nephew the teacup and sat down next to him. _

_"Look, Uncle Nigel, I made a snowman," Ace said cheerfully, pointing at his creation._

_Nigel chuckled. "You sure did…" Usually Nigel would crack a joke to make Ace smile, but he was mentally out of sorts. How could he bring this up to the little chap? How would Ace take the news? _

_"Uncle Nigel, your cup is shaking," Ace pointed out, pointing at Nigel's cup of tea. Nigel didn't even notice. Had he really been shaking? _

_"Are you ill?" Ace asked, looking up at Nigel with concern. _

_Nigel wearily smiled and patted the little penguin on the head. "No, lad. Just a little shagged, is all." _

_"Oh, good," Ace muttered, taking another sip. _

_There was a long passing of silence. The only sound to be heard was the two sipping down their bedtime tea. The other penguins in the habitat were mostly asleep. Ace would be growing tired very soon, Nigel felt obligated to speak up now. _

_"Ace," Nigel said quietly. _

_His nephew looked up at Nigel with his big blue eyes. "Yes?" _

_ Nigel swallowed hard. "Your old man needs to take a little trip…"_

_Ace's eyes lit up like stars in a dark sky. "Oh, fantastic news, Uncle Nigel! Where are we going?" _

_"Well…" Tears were sneaking up on Nigel, but he fought them back. "I have business to attend to, so I'm the one going on the trip." _

_Ace's cheerful smile faded. "Oh…So, when will you be back?" _

_"I don't know, my boy. You see, it will be a long, long trip." _

_Ace set his teacup to the side, his face slowly turning distraught by the minute. "You have to leave without me?" _

_Nigel coughed, refusing to cry now. If he couldn't stay strong—no, he __had__ to. For Ace. "Yes, chap, I'm afraid that you cannot come with me this time, but—"_

_The little penguin stood from his seat now, facing Nigel with tears in his eyes and panic on his face. "You're leaving me alone?" he asked. _

_"No, no. It's going to be okay. Listen, there is a special unit in New York City in America." Nigel tried his best to sound calm, but he seemed to be explaining in a hasty, nervous manner, causing the youngest to furrow his brow in confusion. _

_"Special unit?" Ace repeated. He seemed even more panicked than before. Nigel knew that was not going well. _

_"Yes. They train young boys into soldiers. They learn discipline and survival skills. I want you to grow strong for me while I'm away. It's a penguin exhibit in a zoo, that's right up your ally; you love the people!"_

_"B-but I don't want to be a soldier, I want to go with you!" Ace argued. _

_Nigel's face was burning from holding back his real emotions. "And I want you to come too, lad. More than anything. But it just can't work out that way."_

_"That's not fair!" Ace cried. _

_Nigel sniffled, looking up to the sky as if praying that he wasn't having this conversation. "I know, Ace. I know." _

_Suddenly, the little penguin tackled Nigel with a tight hug, nuzzling his beak into his chest feathers. "Oh, Uncle Nigel, I'm sorry that I said I wanted to venture out. I-I didn't mean it. Please don't leave." _

_Nigel squeezed the little penguin tightly, finally letting his tears fall so Ace couldn't see. "It has nothing to do what you said, my boy, I promise."_

_"Then… what is this about?" Ace asked in between sobs. He refused to let go of his uncle. _

_Nigel suddenly felt a wave of rage wash over him so much so that he nearly drowned. Curse the Red Squirrel for this! Of all times to escape prison and wreak havoc, he chose now. When his nephew needed him the most, when he was finally done grieving over his sister, when he found a safe place to live… This was all very unfair, especially to Ace. Why should a young lad have to go through this? He still had so much learning to do. So many things Nigel wanted to teach him as he grew older, never to happen now; only dreams. Both of their futures were suddenly uncertain and forever changed. _

_Behind Ace's back, Nigel clenched his feathers so hard that they were trembling. He took in a sigh so powerful, struggling not to let his emotions spiral out of control as he released it._

_"I'll tell you someday when you're older, I promise."_

_Nigel was going to hunt down the villainous rodent if it was the last thing he would ever do._

* * *

**Central Park Zoo, New York**

**Fall, Present day**

"Arg!" Skipper cried painfully. He had nearly finished applying first aid on himself.

He was glad he had packed a kit in his pack, knowing he would need it for their training. He would have never fathomed _he_ was going to be the one who needed it. He cleaned out his wound as best as he could with a canteen of water and struggled to wrap gauze around his chest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a flash of white, claws flying at him at full speed, a sharp pain following immediately. It haunted him to think back at how close he was to death. If Private hadn't tackled it…

_Private. _Every time he thought of his little brother, it made his heart shrivel up. He thought back to the pained look he gave Skipper when he realized he had killed the raccoon, it made him wish he had never brought him here. How could he have been so selfish? He knew better than to bring the boy to the park so late at night. Skipper, so consumed with what he thought what was best for Private, put his youngest cadet in danger. Now, he was in even more danger.

Skipper pounded a clenched flipper on the grass as he received another sharp pinch in his chest. His snow-white feathers were caked with blood, fresh and dry. It bled through the gauze he had applied, telling him he didn't have much time. He needed to get to HQ, and fast. Yet, he couldn't slide on his stomach, which would hurt like hell. If only he had brought Rico, who could cough up some sort of transportation on command.

Grunting, Skipper picked up his pack and exhaustedly waddled out of the secret hideaway. He cursed at himself as he trudged, asking himself over and over why he did this. He should have listened more closely to Kowalski's options. He knew this would go 50/50 yet he went through with his plans. All he wanted was to ensure that Private could protect himself on his own. Now he was sure that the boy couldn't. That raccoon almost had him for dinner. If Skipper didn't kill it…he didn't even want to think about the little bird's fate. He couldn't sit there and watch it happen. He did what he had to do, that was that. But…it scarred Private.

Skipper shook his head, growing dizzier the longer he waddled through Central Park. He was halfway there; he knew that much. He had to make it, he refused to bleed out. If he died here, Kowalski and Rico wouldn't know what to think. They might assume Private dead as well. Who knows? Skipper didn't want to think about it, but it kept crawling in the back of his mind. He needed to tell them about the sick raccoon, about Private running off. When he was healed, he promised himself he would search for the boy and not stop until he was found. Who's to say there aren't more sickly animals like the raccoon still lurking about? What if Private runs into one? The little penguin was alone and unarmed, surely, he was in danger.

He heard the tolling of the zoo's bells in the distance, followed by the slow rising of the sun. It was dawn, the boys at HQ would be waking up soon. Skipper needed to hurry, he was knocking on death's door.

_So close… _

* * *

Marlene tiredly crawled out of her habitat. She was usually in a cheerful mood in the morning, but there was something about this particular morning that made her cranky. Maybe it was the way she slept; she wasn't so sure. But she did know that she needed to take a relaxing dip in her pool.

The Asian otter crawled to the top of her large concrete slide, stretching to prepare for an excellent dive. This was going to cheer her up. She had a good feeling about this trick. Soon, her confidence came to a halt when she saw something moving in the distance. There was a poster of her penguin neighbors plastered on a wall. What the humans didn't know was that the penguins had been using this sign as an emergency exit to Central Park. The sign had swung open, and something plopped out, smacking on to the concrete. From far away, Marlene made out this 'something' as a blob of black and white.

Curious, she slid down her slide, neglecting her planned trick. After splashing into her pool, she leaped out and perched herself on the fence that enclosed her habitat. She rubbed the chlorine and sleep out of her eyes, focusing on this mysterious blob. Whatever, or _whoever_ this figure was, Skipper would want to know about it.

The figure came into the otter's focus, dragging itself on the concrete, moaning in pain. It was Skipper! Marlene gasped, realizing that Skipper was taped up with bloody gauze and wheezing painfully. She was no doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew his breathing did not sound good. Instinctively, she leaped off the fence and slid over to her flat-headed friend's rescue.

"Skipper! What happened—why are you—oh…" she cried. She didn't know what to ask first, so many questions were filling her head, clouding her instinct. Finally, she asked, "Skipper, what do you need me to do?"

The injured penguin rolled over on his back, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale. "Get the boys," he said meekly.


End file.
